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A Poem about a Mysterious Woman

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This is a poem about a mysterious woman. Who is she, and what secrets does she hold? It is a thriller expressed through poetry, a story of blood and gunshot, that travels five thousand miles. It is a poem about entangled emotions, dangerous love and hopeful dreams gone wrong....very wrong.....

There she was

At the supper club.......

She arrived with a friend,

Wished the night would soon end.

Prawns made her sick,

But she'd painted her lips

In a mean shade of red,

To turn any man's head

Like a mask; a disguise,

For the woman inside.

She remembered the days

She'd been in LA,

Such a long time ago,

Gotta go with the flow.

She'd been reaching for dreams,

Just the bad ones, it seems,

Nothing left but lost hope,

Changing vistas and smoke.

At the table they talked

Of the prawns, then the pork.

She played with her hair,

Waves that once just weren't there.

From blonde to stark black -

A cliché, perhaps,

Made her skin look so pale

It deterred from the trail.

Stevie Wonder, he played,

Made her feel afraid.

Her past caught in her throat,

Constricted, she choked.

Feeling hot, breathing fast

She got up and rushed past

All the others, who stared

As she ran for the air.

In her mind played the day -

Hollow screaming; the rage.

A plate hit the wall,

She was useless and small.

The stars had burned bright

But they died on that night -

Just a second to change,

Now a lifetime of pain.

She wrote her own blog,

A comforting smog.

On the web, no one sees

But she still wasn't free.

The world was so small,

Though she gave it her all,

Wrote of clothes and of dreams,

Tasty food, lives that gleamed

Like the one that she'd chased,

So naïve, out of place,

In Studio City,

Now left with just pity -

And the face of a man

And her own shaking hand

And the screams, and the blast

And then silence at last.....

Except for the song

That just played along,

Like the background to hell,

The worst kind of spell.

There was no going back,

She found a new track,

Wrote a suicide note,

Then jumped on a boat,

Threw her shoes in the sea -

A red herring; a tease.

Her friend helped her leave

As she tried to believe

That she'd make it alive,

That she'd be spared the inside

Of a cold prison cell

On her voyage to hell.

There she was,

Saying goodbye at the supper club....

She left with her friend,

Won't go back, that's the trend.

Each place, only once,

Make an entrance; a punch,

Then fade back to dust,

Not a choice but a must,

Though the actress inside

Always tries to rise high.

Once back at her flat,

On her laptop she tapped,

As she wrote a review

Of the supper club's food.

Her name wasn't real -

A non-tangible shield,

She'd lost her whole self

To a life lived in stealth.

And with night came the beast

That clung on like a leech,

Sweating and tense,

She lost all pretence

Of a normal life lived,

Of her dreams to be big,

Of her name up in lights,

Of her family; their strife.

They thought she had died,

Didn't know she'd survived.

The note said it all,

They had mourned her, her fall

Right down from grace -

An unsavoury place.

She just tried to hold on

To their faces; their songs.

She saw her hand on the gun

In the low, evening sun,

His face, wild fear,

No pleading, no tears.

It haunts her in dreams,

Life's not as it seems,

A final breath taken

Ends dreams in the making.

Their love was so wrong,

The most dangerous song,

Wrapped up in a cloak

Of betrayal and hope.

The bruise on her arm,

His words, cold and calm,

Then later, explosions

And sultry illusions.

And just one mistake

Is all it can take.

He shut her right out,

Her heart tried to shout.

Then, rejected and hurt,

She was drawn to the words

Of the stranger whose eyes

Made her feel alive.

But one moment of passion

Is like bad, passing fashion.

It was not he she loved,

He was never her drug.

She was wracked with her guilt

Then her secret, it spilt,

By the barbeque ribs,

As the rumour mill hissed.

Like a movie unwinding

He told her to find him,

To invite him alone,

To bring him into their home.

He forced her with words

Of formidable urge,

Picked the plate up to hurl,

As his anger unfurled.

With hands that were shaking,

She called him, just hating

The words that she said,

Of the empty house; bed.

Her lip was split open,

His hand-print a token,

Of the price that she paid

For wandering astray.

She opened the door,

Feeling sick to the core.

He smiled and walked through,

Kissed her cheek, not a clue

That the other man's rage

Was preparing the stage

For the ultimate crime,

A dark moment in time.

There he stood, out of view,

As his jealousy grew,

Raw emotion gone wrong,

A dangerous bomb.

He stepped out and grabbed her -

From then, to ever after,

She would not be the same,

She'd be out of the game.

He placed the gun in her hand,

His breath hot, skin like sand.

She must listen, or die,

Pull the trigger; comply.

No gloves hid the prints,

She knew this and winced -

And the guest in the room

Knew right then he was doomed.

Her body was shaking.

She screamed; she was breaking.

He counted to five -

Just one chance to survive.

With each second passing

To cold, callous laughing,

It was almost too late,

Then she sealed her fate.

With a gun at her head,

She shot him down dead,

The man she'd met twice

Had paid with his life,

Found himself in the way

Of destructive decay,

She was too scared to die,

Though she now wonders why.

The motionless man,

The blood-spattered ground.

What had she done?

She let go of the gun.

She was caught in a trap,

Took a life, no way back.

The proof was immense,

Her throat closed, she was spent.

She ran from the house

To the sound of his shouts,

Thought that no one would care

But her friend waited there -

The one friend who knew

Just what he'd put her through,

Still, the tears wouldn't come,

She was dead now, just numb.

Her friend took her hand,

In her mind was a plan -

Write a suicide note

Then jump on the boat.

She had watched through the window,

Saw that life was in limbo,

Now sail into the sun,

Nothing more can be done.

Get away from LA,

As the dusk ends the day.

As they moved down the coast,

She hid low in the boat.

Mexico, Nicaragua,

Right down to Panama -

What got them through?

Had an angel come too?

Four weeks, open seas,

So sick, yet relieved

Of the space and the freedom

And not quite believing

They had made it this far,

As they stared at the stars -

That vast, open space

Seemed a comforting place.

Casablanca, Tangiers,

The days felt like years.

Mediterranean sights -

But a fugitive's plight

Is not photos and sun

And no one had won,

Then an east Europe bar

By chance got them far.

They sold the boat, just so cheap,

To a man down a street,

Paid for passports to flee

Overland, left the seas.

A new name, a new life,

It's the ultimate prize

For those on the run,

From the prints on a gun.

The White Cliffs of Dover -

Her journey was over,

At least, for a while,

She'd been five thousand miles.

In the city, she blended,

Made her living, suspended

In the online world -

Her blogs were her pearls.

They allowed her to hide,

To maintain her disguise,

Though she always looked back -

Had she covered her tracks?

Yet for now she was free,

Had a flat, walked the streets

Of London's West End,

To the club, with her friend.

There she was

At the Jazz Club....